


Sunrise

by orphan_account



Series: SUNRISE SAGA - Twilight Rewritten [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actually Good, F/M, Rewrite, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 07:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12360963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What if Twilight wasn't completely awful?Perhaps this is a harsh judgement but I'm sure I'm not the only one who has struggled with how much of a cookie-cutter character Isabella Swan is. In this, my rewrite of Twilight, I hope to add some much needed personality into Bella.Plot will stay largely the same, with some slight differences most likely to be found - but the overall story will be the same.





	1. Prologue

I will admit that a few times, I’ve thought on how I’d end up dying - most of them being due to my own ineptitude. But despite all my theories, this was not one of them.

I stared into the dark eyes of the hunter, him returning it with a somewhat pleasant smile. My heart stuttered in my chest and despite my best attempts to pretend otherwise, I was scared.

It was better this way, I had convinced myself, dying for the sake of another. And perhaps, morally, it was but all I could think of was running. I still wanted to live and yet, I knew that it was no longer possible.

The hunter’s smile widened as he stepped forward to kill me.


	2. First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 - Bella's journey to Forks and her first day at school.

It was hot. Yes, it was hot every day, but today it seemed all the more important. My last day in Phoenix, if I were to be dramatic. I was sure someday I would return, but the drive to the airport seemed heavy, as if there was something to mourn.

Forks was a small town, with little to offer besides the great outdoors, but it was there that my father lived. With divorced parents, I had been forced to choose between who I wanted to stay with. And while at first I had picked my mom, I’d come to miss my father, as quiet as he was.

“Bella,” my mom said for the thousandth time, as I left to check in, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I  _ want  _ to go,” I told her, as I had each time before.

My mom wasn’t a bad parent, not by any means. But with her bubbly personality and bundles of energy, she just wasn’t the right person to deal with my introverted self. I loved her, yes, but there was always going to be a differing of natures.

“Say hi to Charlie for me.”

“I will.”

“And if you ever want to come home-”

“I know, mom,” I cut her off. “It’ll be fine.” With this, I stepped forward into a hug and allowed her to hold me just a little too tightly for a moment. An exchange of “I love you”s and I was gone.

The airport was chaos, of course, but I reached the plane without any trouble. The flight from Phoenix to Seattle took only four hours, but I’d need to catch another flight to Port Angeles where I would be driven down to Forks with my dad.

Dad. Father. None of those words really fit, so we’d come to an unspoken agreement that I’d just call him Charlie. He’d been pleased, if not a little surprised, to hear I was coming to live with him. Already he’d registered me for the local high school and promised to help me get a car. It was his own way of showing excitement.

When the plane touched down in Port Angeles, it was raining. Had I not been ready for it, I’d have almost been disappointed.

Luckily, Charlie, or Police Chief Swan as he was known by most of the town, was stood waiting by his cruiser. While riding in a police car had been fun at first, the novelty had worn off around the age of fourteen. Skipping the awkward hugs, I slipped into the passenger seat.

“You haven’t changed a bit since I last saw you, Bella,” he said, smiling as he got behind the wheel. “How are you and your mom?”

“We only saw each other last Christmas,” I reminded him, falling into a slow and easy conversation. “I’m fine and mom’s fine. She’s a little bit sad but I think she’ll be okay.”

“Good, good. I found a car for you too. I bet you’ll love it.”

“What’s it like?”

“Ah, you’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, a rare teasing note in his voice.

We fell into a comfortable silence then, occasionally making comments or asking questions as we thought of them. For the most part, I just watched the scenery as it whipped by the windows. It was definitely different from the arid city I’d come from - here, it was green everywhere, from the trunks covered in moss to the branches hanging overhead.

It was beautiful.

Eventually, we made it to Charlie’s - and now my - house. It was just as I remembered it; small but not cramped, two bedrooms with sloped ceilings that I knew wouldn’t have changed. Parked in front was something new though, and as the cruiser pulled up alongside it, I could see it was a truck. An old truck, yes, but a truck.

I loved it already.

I hopped out as the cruiser’s engine faded, my hands already reaching to pat around the dented metal. It had certainly been through a bit, but it was sturdy and, more importantly, mine.

“Holy shit, I love it,” I breathed out, turning to Charlie with a grin. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s a gift, kiddo.”

“Seriously? You’re the best, Charlie.”

“Yeah, yeah, and don’t you forget it.” He said, with a jokingly pointed finger, before beginning to lug my suitcase inside. Forgetting the truck for a moment, I hurried forwards to grab the other case, glad that I’d chosen to pack somewhat light. It was an easy trip up the stairs, filled with huffing and puffing from the both of us, to my bedroom.

It was exactly how I remembered it, with wooden floors and walls painted a soft blue. The only changes were a desk by the window, holding the computer my mom had insisted I have, and a few familiar pieces of furniture from Phoenix. I hadn’t expected it all to be set up already - another thing I would have to thank Charlie for.

One of the best things about Charlie is that he doesn’t hover. Once he’d helped me get my luggage into my room, he’d left me alone to unpack and settle in - something that would have been impossible if it were my mother. It was nice to be alone with my thoughts, to let me sort through them easily and without interruption.

In the morning, I’d be joining the three hundred and fifty-seven other students at Forks High School. It was more than a little crazy how different things were here - back in Phoenix, there had been over seven hundred people in my junior class alone. Here, everyone would have grown up together, the generations having stuck in this town all these years.

Suffice to say, I was rather nervous about being the new kid.

When I had finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I grabbed my small bag of bathroom necessities and went to clean up after a day of travel. Looking in the mirror, I was almost surprised to see my face peering back at me, rather than seeing layers of grime and sweat from the journey.

One thing I wouldn’t miss was the Arizona sun. Somehow my pale skin had never managed to tan, but it would certainly burn without sunscreen. The only evidence I’d perhaps lived somewhere sunny was the peppering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. Hopefully they’d stay, even in rainy Washington, since I’d grown somewhat attached to them.

After telling Charlie that I was going to turn in early for the night, I returned to my room. The rain had gotten heavier, a staccato rhythm against the window that set my earlier worries to rest. Sleep found me easily, even when the sharp pattering had faded to a softer drizzle.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event, but by no means an awkward one. He wished me good luck at school, before heading off to the police station. After he’d left, I sat at the square oak table and peered around the kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor.

Very little had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t sit and soak in the nostalgia forever. I donned my jacket - thick, warm and comforting - and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, as I reached for the house key - still where it always hung, under the eaves of the door - to lock up. As much as I wanted to stand and admire my new truck, I didn’t want to spend too long with the misty wet that swirled around me and clung to my hair and the fur lining my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Charlie must have cleaned it up beforehand, but there was still the lingering scent of tobacco, gasoline and mint. The engine started quickly, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling without dropping in volume. Some would consider this a bad thing, but it only served to endear the vehicle to me even more.

Finding the school was easy, with it being just off the highway like most other things. It was nothing like back in Phoenix, with its collection of brick buildings and abundance of shrubbery. Hope surged in my chest - at last, I could attend somewhere without the heavy weight of institution and the intimidating metal detectors and chain link fences.

I parked in front of the first building, with a sign hanging over the door and reading ‘front office’. There wasn’t any other vehicles parked, so it was probably off limits, but getting directions would be a far better idea than simple circling around in the rain.

Inside, it was brightly lit and warmer than expected. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in plastic pots, furthering the green that surrounded this town. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly coloured flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses.

She looked up, peering at me through her spectacles. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Isabella Swan,” I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, perhaps even a topic of gossip. Daughter of the Chief’s ex-wife, coming back for good this time.

“Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school. She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through each of my classes for me, highlighting the best routes on the map and gave me a slip of paper to have my teachers sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped that I’d like it here in Forks. I smiled back, thanking her as I left.

When I got back into my truck, other students were starting to arrive. Following the line of traffic, I drove around the school. Most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy like back in the Paradise Valley District. While there it was common to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot, here it seemed the nicest car was a shiny Volvo.

Finally, I found a good spot to park, cutting the engine and pulling out my map in an attempt to memorise as much as I could. The nerves from last night were coming back. I stuffed everything into my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I reassured myself. Nobody was going to bite me. I finally let the breath go and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My black coat blended in with them all, something I was grateful for.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot - the sign with a large black three on it was a dead giveaway. My palms began to sweat as I neared the building, but I managed to keep from descending into full-blown panic as I followed two figures in raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang their coats on a low row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls - one a porcelain-skinned blonde, the other just as pale with light brown hair.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He read over it quickly, nodding and sending me to an empty desk at the back of the room. Despite being at the back of the room, it still seemed as if everyone was watching me.

Rather than watch them watch me, I looked over the reading list I’d been given. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. All things I had read before - it was comforting and familiar. I wondered if looking at my old essays would be cheating.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with dark hair and acne leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” He seemed polite enough.

“Yeah, but people just call me Belle,” I said, my words catching the attention of everyone within three seats of me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six." 

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Polite  _ and  _ helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets from the hooks and headed out into the rain, which had picked up again. Once again, I had the feeling of hundreds of eyes on me - I hoped my anxiety wasn’t making a reappearance.

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked.

“Oh definitely. We only get rain about three or four times a year.”

“Wild. How are you dealing with the damp so far?”

“It’s not too bad. I used to come here every now and then, to see Charlie. So it’s not like I’ve never seen a drop of rain before.”

He laughed shortly at this, our small talk seemingly over. We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. He stopped just short of the door, leaving me with a wish of good luck and another smile, before heading off to his own class.

Alone again, I went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stumbled over my words, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. Wonderful.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. Each conversation was the same as the last - curious but polite small talk.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than me, but her thick, curly hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn’t remember her name and, too embarrassed to ask what it was, I simply smiled and nodded as she chattered about teachers and classes.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me - a flurry of names that I soon forgot. The boy from English, another whose name was lost to me, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to keep up with the conversation of seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them - none of them talking or eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't sneaking glances at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting anyone’s eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was radiant. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made you reevaluate your own figure. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixie like, thin in the extreme, with dainty features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they held a few similarities, small as they were. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones.

And each of them, despite being so different with only some slight details in common, were almost inhumanly beautiful.

They were all looking away - from each other, from other students. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray - her soda unopened, her apple unbitten - and walked with quick, graceful steps. I watched, amazed by her almost dance-like gait, as she dumped her tray and glided through the back door. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

“Who are  _ they _ ?” The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. As the girl from my Spanish class looked to see who I meant, one of them looked her way - the thinner, younger looking one. He looked at her for a fraction of a second and then his dark eyes flickered to mine, before looking away entirely.

In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest - it was as if he had heard someone call his name and had simply looked up in response, despite not deciding to answer.

My classmate giggled in embarrassment, her eyes already having dropped to the table. I copied her, figuring that my open staring was probably rude - no, definitely rude.

“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live with Dr. Cullen and his wife.”

I glanced, a little less conspicuously this time, at the boy who had looked our way. He was looking at his tray, picking a bagel apart with long, slender fingers. His mouth was moving quickly, his lips barely parting, and despite how the others looked away from him, it seemed as if he was speaking to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kind of names that grandparents had. But maybe that was common here - it was a small town, after all. Finally, I remembered that my classmate was called Jessica, a common and popular name. There had been two Jessicas in my History class in my old school.

“They are… very nice-looking.” I felt my face flush as I got the words out.

“Yes!” Jessica agreed, giggling again. “They’re all  _ together  _ though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they  _ live  _ together.” Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. I had to admit, even in Phoenix, that it would have caused gossip.

“Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t really look related.”

“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales  _ are  _ twins, though, and they’re foster children. They’re both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”

Throughout the conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

“Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked. Surely I would have noticed them during one of my visits here.

“No, they moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

I felt a surge of relief, at the fact that I wasn’t the only newcomer here, but also sympathy. Despite their beauty, they were clearly not accepted here - a group of outsiders.

As I watched them, the youngest - one of the Cullens? - met my gaze again, this time with evident curiosity in his eyes. Even as I looked away, it seemed as if his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?” I asked, peeking at him from under my fringe. He was still staring at me, but not like the other students had - he seemed almost frustrated. I looked away again, once more hiding behind my hair.

“That’s Edward,” she answered. “He’s gorgeous, of course, but get used to swooning from a distance. He doesn’t date.” She sounded rather disappointed at her own words.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. All of them possessed a certain gracefulness - even the big, brawny one. It was almost unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn’t look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I’d been sitting alone, despite being worried about being late for a class on my first day. One of them, a girl who thankfully reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lap table, exactly like the ones back in Phoenix. She already had a neighbour - in fact all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognised Edward Cullen sitting next to the single open eat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I found myself watching him from the corner of my eye again. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, a look of pure hostility on his face. I looked away quickly, shocked and ended up stumbling over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table.

His eyes had been black as coal.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book, not bothering to have me introduce myself to the class. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I sat down, bewildered by the look of anger he’d give me before.

I didn’t look up, even as I set my book on the table, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favourite shampoo. Nothing deserving of that sort of response. I let my hair fall over my shoulder, creating a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

I couldn’t stop myself from peeking through my hair occasionally, to look at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, keeping as much distance as he could from me. I could his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This too, he never relaxed.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was coming to a close or because I was waiting for him to loosen his tight fist? It never did; he continued to sit so still, I wondered if he was even breathing.

Was this normal for him? Surely it couldn’t be my fault - we’d never even met before!

I peered up at him one more time and regretted it. He was glaring at me again, his dark eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, the phrase  _ if looks could kill _ ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose - he was much taller than I’d thought - his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else had even had the chance to stand up.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. What had I even done to him? It wasn’t fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block out the rising despair, for fear that I’d end up crying. It had been a long time since anything like this had happened - my anxiety was usually managed, no longer a constant pressure. Today, it felt as if it was going to overflow.

“Aren’t you Isabella Swan?”

I looked up to see baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spiked, smiling at me gently. If he noticed my flushed face or trembling hands, he didn’t say anything.

“Bella,” I corrected him, trying to keep my voice from wavering.

“I’m Mike. Do you need help getting to your next class?”

“I have gym but I think I can find it,” I said, each word easier than the last.

“That’s my next class, too. Do you want to walk together?” He kept his words soft and his smile widened when I nodded.

He chattered softly at me, not minding when I gave only the smallest of responses to him - something that I was truly grateful for. Apparently he had a sister with anxiety and knew the signs of when someone was getting overwhelmed. It turned out he was also in my English class and was the nicest person I had met today.

Finally, as we reached the gym, he asked, “So what happened with Edward Cullen? I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I never spoke to him.”

“He’s a bit of a weird guy. If you want, I could try talking to Mr. Banner, so you can switch seats?” He left it as a question, one I left unanswered with a shrug, as I walked through the girls’ locker room door.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn’t make me dress down for today’s class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory for all four years - the one thing I hadn’t been looking forward to.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained - and inflicted - playing volleyball made me feel slightly nauseous.

The final bell rang at last and I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was stronger and colder. I pulled my coat and arms tighter around myself, but it somehow still chilled me to the bone.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turn around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me, recognisable by his bronze hair. He didn’t appear to take notice of my entrance, so I simply stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low voice and I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time - any other time.

It couldn’t be because of me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about someone else entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could have such an immediate dislike for me.

The door opened again, the cold wind gusting through the room again, rustling the papers on the desk and swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped up to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen’s back had stiffened and he turned slowly to glare at me.

For a moment, I felt genuine fear trickle up my spine.

He turned back to the receptionist.

“Never mind, then,” he said, his voice still smooth despite the rushed words. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you for your help.” And he turned on his heel and disappeared out the door, without so much as another glance at me.

I went meekly to the desk, my cheeks no longer flushed, and handed her the signed slip.

“How did your first day go, dear?” the receptionist asked, a note of concern in her voice.

“Fine,” I lied, the word coming out almost choked. She didn’t look convinced but let me go anyway.

When I got back to my truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough, to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life.

I headed back to the house, fighting back tears the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll admit, I was pushing myself to finish this chapter. Surprisingly, rewriting something is exhausting. Send help.


End file.
